Hired Help
by FreestyleKneepad
Summary: Crossover of Payday 2 and LoL based on a cool little idea I had to make heists more interesting. Language and some violence.


_Author's Note: I highly highly recommend listening to the Payday 2 soundtrack while reading this, which you can find here: album/payday-2-official-soundtrack_

_I went with Razormind, because that song is rad as fuck._

_Enjoy!_

The wave finally ended, and thank god it had. Chains made his way back through the warehouse warily, even though he could see officers retreating through the shipping crates to the safety of the cars that swarmed the entrance to the warehouse. He heard the crash of waves as a coke-laden boat tore away from Pier 9, and underneath his mask he grinned. They had this. Hector would get his coke, alright. Maybe about a thousand pieces of police issue body armor too, just as an added bonus.

"Alright gang," Bain's voice crackled over their earpieces, "That was a hard fight, but the cops are pulling back. Take a breather, you earned it."

Chains' grin only grew. "About goddamn time those fucking cops knew what's good for them."

"Alright guys," Dallas spoke up. He was on the other end of the warehouse, but through Chains' earpiece it sounded as if he was standing right in front of him, "Wolf is still in custody. Bain's negotiating, but we need to find a hostage."

"Cops got the last one we had during that wave, bro," Hoxton commented, and in the corner of his vision Chains could see the stealthiest of the heisters slip by between a few crates as he checked the area for any workers that had tried to hide instead of run.

Chains shifted his weight as he returned to the warehouse, where an ammo bag sat nestled between a pair of red steel tool cabinets, right where the cops wouldn't look. He opened the receiver on his KSP, an intimidatingly large light machine gun that had done wonders against the police so far, shredding through tans like tissue paper and taking down bulldozers in a pinch. "We don't need him," Chains joked, "We need his fuckin' rifle."

"He's a better shot than you," Hoxton shot back, breaking his usual serious attitude thanks to the elation of success. "I'd be afraid to give you a Thanatos, you'd just dump all the fuckin' shots into a blue with a Bronco."

"He'd deserve it too," Chains retorted as he set the ammo line in place and slammed the cover shut. "Fuckin' armor-piercing assholes."

"Enough," Dallas spoke over them both. "Chains, make sure the Pier is secure so that Paco doesn't get shot to hell when he brings the boat back around. Hox, try to get eyes on the cops, see where they're trying to push in from. If we get a good idea of the direction we'll know which way to point Chains before he pulls the trigger."

"Shit, do I even need a direction?" Chains said with a wry smile as he headed for the grenade case just outside, hidden in an ordinary briefcase. When Gage didn't want his ammo drops for the gang noticed, they didn't get noticed. "I bet I could close my eyes and spin and get more kills than you."

Hoxton laughed. "You gonna take that, bro?"

Bain's voice cut over the crew, removing the need for Dallas to fire back. "Enough of that, clowns. They just released Wolf from custody, he's coming through the front entrance."

Hoxton's confusion was palpable. "You're joking, right? We don't got a hostage or nothing."

"Yeah," Bain said back, "I don't like it any more than you do. Stay on your toes, clowns."

"Will do," Dallas reported, and Chains came back into the warehouse to see Wolf put his mask back on and grab the Thanatos, an absolutely gigantic anti-tank rifle, from Dallas' grasp. It didn't feel right, and that feeling set Chains on edge. They didn't just let the heisters go for no reason, that wasn't right. It meant something was seriously off. "Hox, what do you see?"

There was a long pause of tense silence before Hoxton spoke, and the disbelief in his voice made it clear that he was having trouble believing his eyes. "They're pulling back," he said. "All of them."

"You're kidding," Chains said slowly, "They're not just gonna let us finish and leave."

"I heard 'em talking," Wolf said over the comms, "While they had me in the car. Something about Gensec bringing in some hired help. Made 'em sound like some real scary badasses."

"Yeah?" Chains replied as he hefted the light machine gun to rest on his shoulder. It was heavier than hell, but there was a reason Chains carried the big guns, and it wasn't because he made them look good. "Even badasses can get chewed full'a holes."

Dallas came out of the warehouse, searching the courtyard for a sign of the cops. Chains followed shortly behind him, LMG raised and brought to bear, but Hoxton hadn't been joking- they were gone. All of them. The courtyard that had been packed with police and cars and armored transports just before the wave ended was as empty as a ghost town, and it was unnerving as hell. "Ilija," Dallas said to the sniper the gang had paid to cover them for the job, "What do you see?"

"Don't you worry about him," came a woman's voice over their comms. Her accent was British, but only slightly. "They'll take good care of him in the pen."

"And just who the fuck do you think you are?" Chains demanded, his temper rising. He liked Ilija, even if he was a crazy Russkie like that asshole Vlad.

"Me?" the woman responded. She laughed softly, and the amusement in her voice washed over the heisters like a wave. "Call me The Sheriff."

"What is it you want?" Dallas asked. Stupid question as far as Chains was concerned, but Dallas seemed to have more going on under the surface just about constantly, so Chains kept quiet and assumed he knew what he was talking about.

"Why, your unconditional surrender, of course," the Sheriff replied blandly. "Additionally, the names and locations of the boat driver and the man talking to you from elsewhere. Yes, I heard him, too."

"Not happening," Chains cut in.

The Sheriff laughed again. She had an upper-class laugh, like a politician or statesman. "You must be the brawn of the group. You quite remind me of someone. Speaking of which..."

As the heisters watched, a lone patrol car pulled into the courtyard, driven by a single policewoman and accompanied by nobody. The gang ducked back inside, keeping an eye on the car but keeping themselves away from any incoming fire. None came in the first place.

"That would be the Enforcer there," the Sheriff commented.

"This is some bullshit," Chains commented. Nobody got away with calling themselves an enforcer around him, and he had a pretty good track record of dealing with the pretenders, too. No reason to stop now.

"You have no idea," the Sheriff mused. "Right, I'll repeat myself: drop your weapons and surrender yourselves, or the Enforcer will come inside and make you. Try to fire back and I'll shoot the guns from your hands."

Dallas looked to chains and raised a finger to his mask's mouth, commanding silence. They couldn't strategize with the cops- or whoever these jokers were- listening to their comms. Wolf saw the sign too and nodded, and Hoxton... well, Hoxton had been silent the whole time, true to form.

Dallas motioned for Wolf to get in position, then turned his attention back to the girl in the car. She stepped out slowly, eyes on the warehouse but not focused on anything in particular. She had the muscular figure of a athlete, built for strength more than for speed, and it was easy to see because the police officer's uniform she wore would have been more at home at a strip club than in a precinct. It hugged her curves like it was made of spandex, and showed off plenty of her muscular midriff as well as her chest. Her hair fell past her shoulders on one side, and its bright pink color seemed at odds with the idea of an ordinary cop. So did the aviators and the fat cigar the burned steadily as it hung from the corner of her mouth. She pulled the cigar from between two slim fingers and blew a thick puff of smoke, then shouted as loud as she could. "YOU THINK THEY KILLED THEMSELVES, CUPCAKE?"

Chains vaguely heard the Sheriff's voice call out 'I said don't call me that' and it brought a grin to his face. The cops sent in a couple strippers to do their dirty work for them? Exactly what were they trying to pull off here? Dallas motioned to Wolf once he was in position, and the Swede raised his massive rifle carefully, bringing it to bear on the pink-haired 'Enforcer' with a fluid motion. A crack filled the air, and moments later the barrel of Wolf's rifle was sheared right off of its stock, torn away by a fired shot that landed exactly at the point where it would cause the most damage to the weapon. The remains of the stock had bent from the force, warped downward in the trajectory of the shot, rendering the gun worthless.

The Sheriff's voice came back onto the comms. "Now, now, we won't be having any of that. I'll give you one more chance before we arrest the lot of you."

The pink-haired girl, apparently bored of waiting, stepped around the back of the car and opened the trunk. Chains couldn't see what she was doing from his spot, but he could see a massive white hand, made of shining steel and iron, as it reached up to close the trunk. The girl stepped back around wearing a pair of mechanical gauntlets almost as large as herself, with fingers the size of Chains' whole hand. They seemed like they should weigh a ton and yet their size didn't hamper the girl in the slightest. She leaned against the front of the patrol car and used one massive gauntlet to take another drag of the cigar, then tossed it aside. She slammed one fist into the palm of the other, and the clanking metal impact of the gesture shook Chains' bones.

"THEY'RE SCARED," the girl shouted to her ally, her tone of voice the kind of thing he expected to hear from Russian mobsters. "LET'S GO IN AND WIPE 'EM OUT."

"Gentlemen?" the Sheriff asked the silent heisters politely. "Any objections?"

Dallas was silent, calculating. He didn't seem to be coming up with anything. He stood up, careful not to leave the cover of the warehouse, and walked over to Wolf, handing the Swede his assault rifle. Dallas pulled out his sidearm, a powerful modded-out Bronco, and loaded it carefully. As he finished he nodded to Chains, who grinned under his mask and prepared his LMG. Behind them, Hoxton returned to the warehouse, and prepared his silenced pistol for the attack.

"I'm the only enforcer in this town," Chains said over the comms, loud enough for the girl outside to hear.

"AW HELL NO," she screamed back, "YOU DID _NOT_ JUST CALL ME OUT!"

"Very well," the Sheriff responded. "Vi? They're all yours."

The girl outside- Vi?- pressed both hands to the ground and knelt in a linebacker's stance, the fingers of those massive gauntlets digging into the asphalt like it was sand. "Seeeeeeeeeeeet..." she said loudly, and the crew collectively sucked in a breath. **"HIKE!"**

Vi sprinted forward, faster than should have been possible. Chains howled with anger and unloaded, spraying lead in her direction like he was trying to paint her gunmetal gray with rounds. The bullets flew forward in a hailstorm of devastation, and they made it to about six inches away from her before they... broke. On nothing. The air around her rippled, and blue light flashed in sparks as bullets impacted what seemed to be a wall of force in front of her, protecting her from every single round in Chains' gun. She barreled into the warehouse, not through the door but through a wall next to it, shattering the framing and steel of the wall and putting her directly in front of a startled Dallas. He brought his pistol to bear and fired, but it did about as much good against the Enforcer's shield. She wound back a fist and swung, slamming into Dallas' chest like a wrecking ball. Something in the fist whirred loudly, and the explosion of force from the gauntlet suddenly redoubled, creating a concussive blast that punched the breath from Chains' lungs and sent Dallas flying through the wall behind him like a sack of meat, sailing out of the warehouse and into the water at the pier's edge.

Wolf screamed and unloaded with the rifle, but it didn't seem to do anything more against her. Chains fired as well, and under the combined fire the Enforcer seemed to step back, but that was it. Bulldozers weren't this tough. Hoxton tried to get into position behind her, to get a sneaky shot off that could cripple her, but Chains saw a red dot of light only an instant before another round slammed into the gun, the impact of the shot almost literally disintegrating the pistol in Hoxton's hand. He reacted slowly, painfully, screaming as shards of the gun lodged themselves in his fingers. Chains looked back to Wolf just in time to see him take a hit from the Enforcer, slamming him into the adjacent wall. Chains swore and pulled the trigger, but his gun clicked empty. He ducked behind cover and tried to reload, but his shaking hands couldn't line up the ammo with its receiver, and with a curse he tossed away the gun and pulled out his reliable Locomotive. It had gotten him through tough times in the past, and it'd do it again.

"Hoxton," Chains said loudly, "Get the fuck outta here, I'll hold them off."

A delighted chuckle sounded over the comms, and Chains cursed again and ripped the earpiece from his ear, smashing it on the ground with a shoe. Hoxton nodded and stepped back from the Enforcer, who had set her sights on Chains. She grinned, the daring glare evident even through her shades. "You," she said smiling, "You're the enforcer? You think you're tough?"

She took a step forward, and Chains fired. The shotgun roared, echoing with ear-splitting volume in the cramped warehouse, but it was nothing against the Enforcer's shield. She grinned, and her teeth had a devilish look to them. "You think you're hot shit?"

Chains fired again. No use.

"I've seen squirrels on fuckin' mushrooms that're tougher than you."

A third futile shot rang out.

"You're feisty, though. I like that."

Shot four, same as the first three. Chains went to pull the trigger again, but the sharp crack of a rifle's report caught him first. It had come from outside, and the loud curse that issued from the door that Hoxton had taken froze him in place. Vi smirked, then pulled out another cigar and lit it. "That'd be your buddy. Probably just got kneecapped- she likes shooting for the knees. You gonna give up, or am I gonna have to knock your punk ass out like the others?"

Chains didn't stop firing until he had nothing left to fire.

From his position overseeing the operation, Bain shook his head. He'd lost contact long ago, but from what he could see of the news choppers overhead, it wasn't good. He cracked his knuckles nervously, then got on and prepared to post a new bulletin, warning others of the same fate. He'd be able to get the crew out of custody, but not without a steep cost. More importantly, he had to warn everyone else on the network, make sure they knew that whoever the hell these two were, they were serious fucking business.

"New Gensec enemies," he wrote on the message boards. "Still not as bad as those shit-sucking cloakers."


End file.
